“Yes,” with a startled look⁠—“didn’t she stay with you last night?”

“Why, no.”

Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said:

“Good morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good morning, Mrs. Harper. I’ve got a boy that’s turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night⁠—one of you. And now he’s afraid to come to church. I’ve got to settle with him.”

Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever.